


Resonance

by EmberQuill



Series: Resonance [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: As in Ginny's PoV, F/M, Gen, Ginny deals with some heavy shit, Harry is mostly oblivious for a while, No character bashing, POV Female Character, Pre-Relationship, Some angst, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-06 05:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4210032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmberQuill/pseuds/EmberQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ginny's experiences in the Chamber left her wounded in ways that go beyond the physical. Harry bears a scar seared onto his very soul. When these two injured souls meet... everything changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The White Queen

**Author's Note:**

> A few passages from this chapter are lifted straight from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, some with small modifications. Anything you recognize from the book obviously does not belong to me.
> 
> This is a soul bond fic. I know a lot of people don't like those so I'm just going to go out and say it clearly. If you despise soul bonds then I'm sure even the most well-written and entertaining story would still fail to convince you. It won't be like most other soul bond fics, I think, but the fact remains that it is what it is.
> 
> So, back in 2009 I wrote the first few chapters of Resonance, a soul bond fic that serves as a predecessor and inspiration for this one. I made a few missteps (some of them rather bad, in hindsight) and wasn't prepared for the sheer scale of the project I'd taken on. I burned out and quickly moved on to other stories, but the concept stayed in the back of my mind. Over the years, I toyed with the idea of continuing or rewriting it. I must have like eight different drafts of this one chapter alone. But now, I think I finally have it. And so, without further ado...

_Help me — help me —_ Harry thought desperately, his eyes clenched tightly shut under the brim of the hat. _Please help me..._

_Take this,_ a familiar voice — the voice he had once begged to put him in any other house but Slytherin — whispered into his mind. _It is not yours, but you may use it for a time._

The hat contracted, as though an invisible hand was squeezing it very tightly. Something hard and heavy thudded onto the top of Harry's head, stunning him. With stars winking in front of his eyes, he grabbed the top of the hat to pull it off and felt something long and hard beneath it.

A gleaming silver sword had appeared inside the hat, its hilt glittering with rubies the size of egg _s._

* * *

_Ow._

The first thought that drifted through Ginny Weasley's mind was not particularly verbose. She could hardly be blamed though, as her mind was still only beginning to wander back towards consciousness. The throbbing pain in the back of her head certainly didn't help matters. With a quiet, anguished moan, she tried to push away the pain so she could determine where she was and what had happened.

It had become a routine by now. Frequent blackouts had plagued her throughout the past year, beginning just a few weeks after her arrival at Hogwarts to begin her first year. After every fainting spell, she would wake to find herself somewhere else, having done something during the time she couldn't remember. Now, whenever she woke anywhere but in her own bed in Gryffindor Tower, she would immediately take stock of her surroundings as soon as she was coherent...

...which seemed to be taking a rather long time on this occasion.

Eventually, she realized that her cheek was pressed up against a moist, stone floor. The air around her was cold and damp, and there was no sound to be heard other than the quiet _plink_ of dripping water.

All of this was — unfortunately — far too familiar to her. She knew exactly where she was.

She was in the Chamber again.

Worse, she smelled blood. Quite a lot of it. Far too much.

_Oh no._

She shivered again. _Please..._ she pleaded — to whom, she wasn't sure. _Please no... Don't tell me I actually killed someone this time..._

She opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was the stone floor of the Chamber of Secrets. A massive shape loomed over her. She turned her head, heedless of the agony that such a small motion caused, and looked up as the shape slowly swam into focus.

Her breath caught in her throat. The Basilisk was there!

She recoiled from the monster, though the pain stabbing through her head stopped her from moving further. Her eyes squeezed shut to avoid the Basilisk's deadly gaze, she waited for her end to come. If it could not kill her with its eyes, it would simply poison her with its fangs.

_I guess Tom has no more use for me,_ she thought, defeated. _But maybe dying alone down here would be for the best. Nobody would ever have to know what I've done, and it's more than I deserve..._

She frowned, her eyes still closed. The Basilisk sure was taking its time. In fact, she couldn't hear it slithering across the floor at all.

A minute passed before she summoned enough courage to open her eyes, squinting at the monster's sharp fangs. They...weren't moving to attack her. In fact, the entire beast seemed to be lying still and silent.

Her gaze drifted upward. _End it,_ she told herself vehemently. _End it before you end someone else!_

She looked into its eyes —

But they were gone! Two empty sockets stared back at her, dripping with blood and marred with slashes that looked like they came from an enraged bird's talons. Once upon a time, such a grisly sight might have caused her to lose her lunch, but it seemed downright tame in comparison to the things Tom had shown her once she'd fallen fully under his sway.

Then she noticed the pool of blood around its massive head. There was a _lot_ of it. More than even a creature of such massive size could stand to lose.

The monster was no more.

_But...how?_

Her silent question was answered by a quiet shuffling noise behind her, followed by the sound of metal scraping against stone. Slowly, she managed to push herself upright and turn around, worried about what she might find behind her. What she actually saw, though, shocked her.

Harry Potter was slowly walking towards her, smiling despite his apparent exhaustion as he approached. His robes were torn and shredded, and he was absolutely drenched in blood that Ginny desperately hoped wasn't his own. In one hand, he held a longsword with a ruby-encrusted hilt and a blade that somehow shone a bright silver despite the muted green light of the Chamber, though he clearly lacked the strength to keep its point from dragging across the cobblestone floor. A tattered old hat that looked a lot like the Hogwarts Sorting Hat was tucked under the same arm that held the sword, and the handle of his wand was barely visible from where it was wedged beneath his belt. In his other hand was the source of Ginny's year-long nightmare.

The Diary. A ratty old book with a black cover and a gaping hole punched right through the center. Ink dripped from it to the floor, mixing with the water and blood that already coated the stone.

"Harry —" Ginny whispered, catching herself by surprise as words began to tumble from her lips, "— I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I _c-couldn't_ say it in front of Percy — it was _me_ , Harry — but I — I s-swear I d-didn't mean to — R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over —"

The memory of what Tom had done to her — _was it only just a few hours ago?_ — surfaced in her mind, and she retched, her empty stomach heaving as she again felt his creeping presence, the shadowy tendrils that had crept into her mind, infecting everything they touched.

She heard the clatter of metal on stone before a hand rested lightly on her back, rubbing gentle circles as she continued to retch violently. Somehow, it helped, and she took several deep breaths as her nausea began to fade.

"It's alright," Harry whispered to her as he continued to rub her back. He knelt down and placed the Diary in front of her on the ground. "Riddle's Finished. Him _and_ the Basilisk. C'mon Ginny, let's get out of..."

The hand slowly moved up her back, and Ginny felt her spine tingle in spite of herself.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked. "Your neck —"

His blood- and ink-slicked hand gently touched the back of her neck, and Ginny's world _exploded_ with pain. She screamed, unaware that Harry's voice echoed her own.

Ginny collapsed onto the floor of the Chamber of Secrets. By the time Harry's muscles gave out and he fell on top of her, unconsciousness had already claimed her once again.

* * *

Dumbledore was moving through a second floor corridor, his long strides carrying him down the hallway at a speed his age belied, when he felt it. A wave of pure _power_ swept through him and his hair did its level best to stand on end despite its excessive length. It took only a moment to pinpoint the source of the surge before he quickly turned down a different hall and all but ran towards the girls' toilet.

* * *

At the top of the North Tower, Sibyll Trelawney froze and dropped the irregular lump of crystal she'd been holding. It fell to the floor with a loud _thunk_ and rolled under a table, but sound was not enough to rouse her.

Her mouth stretched wide and she spoke in a harsh, gutteral voice. Then she shook her head and looked at her empty hand, the words already gone from her mind.

"Where...?" she murmured quietly. Then she looked down and saw the crystal she had dropped. Frowning at her momentary lapse in attention, she knelt to pick it up.

Her forgotten prophecy went unheard.

* * *

Ginny gasped as she abruptly came awake. This was not the slow awakening she'd grown used to experiencing after her blackouts; it felt more like a sudden slap to the face. Her eyes opened instantly, though it took a bit longer for her to focus enough to recognize the ceiling above her.

She was in the Hospital Wing. Had she blacked out again? Had someone found her passed out somewhere? The last thing she could remember —

_The Chamber of Secrets. The Basilisk, lying dead on the floor. The Diary, ink bleeding from the hole torn through its center._

_Harry._

"Good morning, Miss Weasley."

Startled, she turned her head towards the source of the voice that had greeted her, relishing the soft feeling of the bed she was resting on even as her head throbbed painfully, and saw that she was not alone in the room. Albus Dumbledore himself sat by her bedside, tucking his wand into his sleeve.

_Oh no._

Ginny could feel herself start to shake as she looked up at the Headmaster's face. When he opened his mouth, she would have cringed, but even just the thought of moving again sent a new wave of pain through her head.

And so she waited for her punishment, wondering whether she would be sent to Azkaban or just expelled from Hogwarts. Would they snap her wand? Would she be forced to live the rest of her life without magic? Would she even _have_ her life when they were done with her? Perhaps it would have been better if she had just died in the Chamber.

Instead, Dumbledore asked, "Would you like a lemon drop?"

Ginny stared at him. Was he _serious_?

Dumbledore gazed at her for a moment, then sighed and seemed to sag in his chair. Suddenly he looked every bit as exhausted as she felt.

"The students that were petrified have been cured," Dumbledore informed her softly. "They —"

"I'm so sorry, Professor," she whispered, tears filling her eyes at the reminder of what she'd done.

A hand gently grasped her shoulder. Surprised at the sudden contact, she looked up at him as he used his other hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "Here now," he said quietly, "there is no need to cry."

"But I... I hurt all those students — but it wasn't my fault! It was — It was Tom! He —"

"I know," he interrupted her. "Harry related the full story to me after he woke up. I know all about Tom Riddle. You are not to blame for his actions. All of the petrified students have fully recovered, no lives were lost, and the threat of the Chamber of Secrets has passed." He smiled wryly. "You are still weak from your ordeal, and I know Madame Pomfrey would hex me if I were to cause you undue stress."

That brought a tiny smile to her face, though it was more due to sheer relief than his little jest. She rubbed her bloodshot eyes, ashamed that she had cried in front of him, even if only a little, then mumbled, "So...?"

"So you will not be punished in any way," Dumbledore assured her. "I would be a terrible Headmaster if I held you responsible for your actions while under the direct control of Voldemort's younger self."

" _Voldemort?!_ " she gasped. "But — But he's gone! I thought... 'younger self'?"

"Yes." Dumbledore nodded. Remorse crept into his voice as he continued, "They are one and the same. Tom Riddle became known to his closest friends as Lord Voldemort while he was still a student here."

Ginny was silent as she absorbed this new bit of information. She was less shocked than she believed she ought to be. Somehow, it just made perfect sense to her that Tom Riddle became Voldemort. It just seemed to... fit.

She felt as if she had always known.

"Now, Ginevra," the old man said quietly, drawing her mind back to the present, "I must speak with you about a... rather delicate issue. It is of absolutely vital importance. I would much rather put it off until you are released from the Hospital Wing, but sadly, it cannot wait." Her fear grew as she wondered what he meant. Her head throbbed again, but she did her best to ignore it.

"What is it?" she asked.

"When Harry destroyed the Diary," he said hesitantly, as if he didn't want to tell her, "I believed Tom's memories and thoughts to be gone, lost forever. However, I can see now that I was wrong. You were possessed by him so thoroughly, and for so long, that I believe parts of his memories, parts of whatever was actually within that diary, remain within your own mind."

"No," Ginny whispered, though somehow, she knew he was right.

"I am truly sorry, but —"

" _No!_ " she shouted at him, overwhelmed by a painful mix of fear, horror, and rage. "I don't _want_ his memories! I don't want to know _anything_ about him! I don't want to have anything to do with him! I just want him to **_LEAVE ME ALONE!_** "

Dumbledore looked down at her, with something that looked alarmingly like pity in his eyes. She almost shouted at him again, but the look on his face stopped her. Instead, she whispered two words:

"Obliviate me."

The Headmaster was silent. Ginny glared at him.

"Do it!"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I cannot."

"But..." Ginny whispered, tears once again falling down her face, "Why?"

Dumbledore's voice was just barely louder than her own when he said, "I wish with all my heart that I could simply make you forget — no child should _ever_ have to experience what you've been through — but Tom's experiences and knowledge are so tied up with all of your thoughts and memories of the past year that trying to remove it all could seriously damage your mind."

"I don't care," she said, defeated. "I'd rather be a drooling idiot than have even a _speck_ of him in my head."

Dumbledore favored her with a disapproving look.

"What one wants and what one receives are rarely the same," he told her. "You simply do what you can with what you have, and then you have to live with it." For a very brief moment, she saw sadness and regret in his eyes. "However, I _was_ able to assist you while you were unconscious. While I cannot remove his memories from your mind, I was still able to lock them away from your conscious awareness. It is a rather crude solution, and will likely not hold up very long, but in that time you could learn to keep your thoughts organized without my help."

"How?" Ginny asked quickly.

"Occlumency," was Dumbledore's reply, though the word meant nothing to her. Her blank look prompted him to explain, "It is an art of the mind, used to organize one's thoughts and defend the mind from invasion. It is difficult to learn and nearly impossible to master, but I do believe you to be capable. Your will is certainly strong enough."

"Me? Strong?" Ginny let out a short, humorless laugh. "No, if I was strong, then I could've —"

"The Basilisk did not kill a single person while you were under Voldemort's control," Dumbledore told her quietly. "Tom would not have hesitated to kill. The Basilisk was incapable of hesitation. There is only one thing that could have stopped them." He raised a bony finger and tapped her forehead. "You. You held the Basilisk back, Ginevra. _You_ refused to let it kill. _You_ chose its targets carefully, allowing it to petrify, but never to kill.

"But I —"

"Many older, wiser, and more powerful witches and wizards would have failed, you know," Dumbledore informed her, not giving her a chance to argue. "They would have been broken by what you suffered. They would have fallen completely under Tom's influence. I imagine that if his diary had ended up in the hands of any other student — or even a Professor — far worse might have happened. _You_ were strong enough to resist, strong enough to keep him from making you kill, stronger than most would have been in your place. It takes courage just to _survive_ what you have been through, but you somehow managed to do even more. You fought back, and prevented a single life from being taken this year. Never forget that."

He nodded decisively and stood, making his way to the Hospital Wing's entrance. He stepped through, closing the doors behind him to leave a speechless Ginny alone in the infirmary.

* * *

For most of the students of Hogwarts, the rest of the Spring term passed like a fleeting dream. They were ecstatic to see that their petrified classmates had been cured, and that their end-of-year exams had been cancelled. The fifth- and seventh-years still had to take their OWL and NEWT tests, but they were postponed until midsummer to allow the students who had been petrified to catch up on all the material they'd missed. Even Hermione's enthusiasm had only been slightly dampened to learn that they had no exams to study for.

Ginny couldn't resist a smile when she saw Hermione pull her two best friends into a group hug for what had to be the hundredth time now, though her grin faded quickly. The redhead's mood wasn't nearly as jubilant as her friends'. Though she was finally free of Tom Riddle's control, completely free for the first time since she'd discovered the diary buried in her trunk back in September, she couldn't shake the melancholy that had overtaken her. Her nights were spent tossing and turning, dreaming of the Chamber, or of bits and pieces of Tom Riddle's past. Even though Tom had only been sixteen when he created the Diary, and hadn't yet become the monster that the entire Wizarding World was afraid to name, he had still done plenty of terrible things even back then. After the third night in a row of waking up her roommates with her screams, she'd started putting a silencing ward around her bed to allow them to sleep even if she could not.

She still wasn't sure when she had learned that spell, which terrified her more than anything. Had the knowledge come from Tom? Had Dumbledore missed a few memories when he'd locked them away?

Eventually, after a long and agonizing few days, Ginny found herself on the Hogwarts Express as it traveled back to King's Cross Station. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and the twins had all claimed a compartment with her. Fred and George spent most of the ride amusing themselves by setting off Filibuster Fireworks to terrify the first-years in other cabins. Hermione had tried to stop them, but gave it up as a lost cause after Percy's attempt to restore order had ended with him being chased down the corridor into the next carriage by one of the very fireworks he'd tried to confiscate.

Ginny spent most of the trip staring absently out the window, reflecting on everything that had happened during her first year at Hogwarts even as she tried to just forget it all. She had just noticed they were approaching London when somebody began to speak.

"Ginny," a _very_ familiar voice said. She tensed slightly but didn't turn towards Harry as he continued, "What did you see Percy doing, that he didn't want you to tell anyone?"

"Oh, that." Ginny relaxed, relieved that Harry hadn't asked anything about the Chamber or about Tom Riddle. Everyone else had asked her about what had happened, no matter how many times she'd refused to talk about it. Harry was the only one who had held his tongue. As she thought back to what Percy had believed she was about to say when she'd tried to confess everything to Harry earlier in the year, she forced a quiet giggle and answered, "Well, Percy's got a girlfriend."

Fred had just taken a stack of books from the luggage rack above the window, which he dropped on George's head after hearing that juicy nugget of potential blackmail material. "What?" he asked. George, rubbing his head, looked just as intrigued and not at all put out by the books that had just fallen on him.

"It's that Ravenclaw Prefect," she told them with a grin of genuine amusement. "That's who he was writing to all last summer. He's been meeting her all over the school in secret. I walked in on them kissing in an empty classroom one day. He was so upset when she was, you know, attacked." She paused, frowning. No matter what Dumbledore had said, she couldn't ignore the tiny voice in her mind that said it was all her fault. "You won't tease him, will you?"

She had to smother a laugh when she saw the looks on everyone's faces, particularly those of her brothers. Ron was smirking, but the twins looked as if Christmas had come half a year early.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Fred replied with a wide, almost sinister grin.

"Definitely not," George agreed, his face a mirror of his twin's.

* * *

When the train pulled in to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, the usual chaos of departing students ensued. Percy could be heard occasionally shouting over the din of students and parents reuniting, but nobody seemed to be listening and none of the other Prefects had even bothered to assist.

The Weasley siblings, Harry, and Hermione all stepped off the train and into the crowd. Fred and George put their Beater talents and stocky frames to good use, pushing and shoving through the crowd towards their parents. Harry and Hermione followed, walking with the group of redheads who fought through the chaos to the barrier and stepped through into the equally loud — but somehow less crowded — station proper.

Harry's family was easy to find. Ginny could recall seeing them a year earlier, when she'd been waiting on the platform for her older brothers to come home from Hogwarts. The Dursleys had been the only family that looked as if they wanted to be anywhere else but there. This year, the three of them looked even more uncomfortable and angry than before.

As the redheaded procession stopped so the Weasley children could properly greet their parents outside of the crowded platform, Ginny heard Harry sigh behind her.

"They found out last summer I'm not allowed to use magic outside of school," he murmured.

"Well, if they lock you up like last summer, we'll just have to spring you again," Ron replied.

" _Ron!_ " Hermione hissed angrily. "You're lucky the two of you didn't get _expelled_ for that stunt you pulled with the car! Harry, just try to avoid getting into trouble and —"

"It's not like I go _looking_ for it," Harry protested. "Trouble just finds me anyway!"

Ron chuckled while Hermione huffed quietly, then the three of them said their goodbyes and split up. Ron was immediately scooped into a crushing embrace by the Weasley matriarch, while Hermione headed towards a well-dressed Muggle couple who looked a little bewildered at the sight of children and parents walking through a solid wall. Harry turned to face his own relatives. Ginny watched with a frown as the large, red-faced man sneered at Harry while the thin woman next to him looked down her nose in a way that made it seem that she was trying to imitate a displeased Professor McGonagall — and failing utterly.

_Nobody should have to go home to a family like that, especially not Harry Potter_ Ginny thought as she turned towards her own parents. Her mother was smiling happily as she hugged each of the twins, who were offering token protests despite the wide smiles they wore. Ginny was the next one to receive a hug, and she hugged her mother in return with just as much vigor, though she glanced at Harry again as she did so, just in time to meet his eyes as he turned back for one last look at his friends. He smiled at her and waved. Ginny tried to wave back, but she blushed so red that her face matched her hair and could only just wiggle her hand a little as she buried her face in her mother's shoulder. When she finally chanced another look at him, he was already walking away with the Dursleys.

The back of her neck, just beneath her hairline, itched slightly. She frowned and reached behind her head to rub at the slightly raised skin there. She had sustained a few injuries in the Chamber of Secrets, though all had been healed by Madame Pomfrey except for one. For some reason, the mediwitch had later explained, a cut on the back of her neck had resisted the healing spells and would have to heal naturally. It had begun to do so already, but Ginny was sure that it would still leave a scar behind when it did.

As she resisted the urge to scratch the slowly-healing skin, she failed to notice Harry reach up to rub his forehead as he disappeared around the corner.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office at Hogwarts, his hands clasped on his lap as he gazed off into the distance, deep in thought. A rather worn chessboard he'd bought in a Muggle shop many decades ago was placed on the surface of his desk, with white and black pieces on it depicting a game already in progress. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at the board and considered the state of his ongoing chess match. His white pieces and his opponent's black had both taken severe blows. Off to ths side rested the pieces that had been captured during the game.

Among the pieces he'd lost was the White Queen. A face came to mind as he picked it up and twirled it slowly between his fingers, a face with long, almost-crimson hair and vibrant green eyes.

"Lily Potter," he said as he placed the Queen back down on his desk, "sacrificed to protect the King."

He looked back at the board again. Harry Potter was the White King, of course, and Tom Riddle his Black counterpart. After all, if either King was taken, the game would end.

_...and either must die at the hand of the other..._

The White Knights were Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, naturally. They would stand by their King, and even lay down their lives to protect his own, if necessary.

He sincerely hoped it would not be necessary.

Severus Snape was the White Rook, while the currently defunct Order of the Phoenix were the Pawns. He smiled slightly as he decided he was one of the Bishops. That still left a Rook and a Bishop unaccounted for on White's side, but Albus was certain they would have names and faces of their own, soon enough.

He looked at the black pieces now. He had already decided the King's role, but what of the others? The majority of the Death Eaters were likely just pawns in Tom's grand scheme, but that still left the rest of his pieces.

He thought of Tom Riddle's destroyed Diary, deciding that it should be represented, though he could not fathom why. He supposed that it would be a Rook. It just so happened that one of the Black Rooks was diagonally adjacent to the White King. The game he seemed to be playing against himself was certainly an unusual one, and Dumbledore had made many moves that would leave other chess players scratching their heads as he put pieces in incredibly odd places. In fact, most would likely assume that Dumbledore was truly rubbish at chess, for the moves seemed to make sense to nobody but him. However, this was not a normal game of chess at all.

With a smile, he moved the King to the Rook's space, and removed the Rook from the board.

"King takes Rook," he said. "Harry destroys the Diary."

Taking the Rook with his King had opened up a path for one of his Pawns — which had been on the verge of defeat at the hands of the Rook he'd just taken — to move forward. But first, it was Black's turn. He moved one of the Black Pawns toward himself, not really caring to assign a name or face to it yet. Then he smiled and took the White Pawn to move it one space up, to the opposite end of the board. Dumbledore frowned as he promoted the Pawn, replacing it with his discarded Queen. That left him with a difficult question to answer:

Who was the new White Queen?

A different face rose unbidden to the surface of his thoughts. Red hair like Lily's, but of a different shade more akin to fire than crimson, and chocolate brown eyes instead of verdant green. Younger than Lily, but every bit as selfless and brave.

"Ginevra Weasley," he whispered, his eyes wide with shock as he regarded the White Queen with an expression of slowly dawning comprehension. He had no idea why, but Ginny being the Queen seemed right, somehow. And just as the Black Rook had threatened his Pawn, so had the Diary threatened Ginny. Dumbledore had learned long ago not to discard errant thoughts like that one. Instead, he took note of it and started to wonder what it meant. How large of a part would the youngest Weasley play in the years to come?

He leaned back in his chair to consider the state of the chess match again, then nodded and looked across his desk, imagining a teenaged boy with steel-gray eyes sitting in one of the seats opposite him. That boy was long gone now, but Albus could not help but see him as the child he used to be, rather than the monster he'd become. With a sigh, he gestured towards the board.

"Your move, Tom."


	2. Repercussions

_"Ssssspeak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four."_

_She watched as the statue of Salazar Slytherin opened its massive mouth. Within it she could see something stirring in the darkness, slithering up from the statue's depths._

_"Close your eyesss," she hissed before its emerged. Then she watched as the Basilisk, the King of Serpents, came out into the Chamber proper._

_"Follow me," she said with a grin. "We have work to do tonight."_

* * *

Ginny stared into the mirror in the Burrow's one and only bathroom.

A stranger stared back.

The stranger had Ginny's fiery red hair, Ginny's freckled complexion, Ginny's brown eyes, the nose that Ginny had always thought was slightly too big and the lips she'd wished were fuller. The stranger looked like her in so many ways, but her eyes were different. There was a hardness in them that hadn't been there before.

The nightmares had begun her first night back at home. She had tossed and turned in her bed as she dreamed of pouring her soul out to Tom Riddle as he poured his own back in. She dreamed of the shadowy tendrils creeping into her mind as she lost more and more of herself to the Diary, until she was more Tom than Ginny. And then she had begun to dream of the things she had done while under his control.

She saw herself entering the Chamber for the first time. She saw herself calling the Basilisk, and setting it on her fellow students.

"Ginny! You still in there?"

Drawn from her thoughts, Ginny shook her head and turned to the door. "Just a second!" she called. She looked back at the mirror and took a deep breath, then smiled. It was a fake smile, and she could easily tell just how fake it was, but she hoped her family wouldn't notice. The only thing worse than suffering alone would be the pitying gazes of her brothers and parents.

She opened the door and slipped past an impatient Ron, who immediately moved past her and slammed the door shut. She made her way downstairs to the kitchen, where she sat at the table and watched her mother go about her work.

Ginny was absolutely certain her mother knew every cooking charm ever invented. She almost seemed to dance around the kitchen, her wand trailing sparks as she adjusted the heat that was cooking sausages and mixed up some scrambled eggs all while cooking at least three or four other dishes simultaneously. But then, she had no choice but to master this kind of frantic cooking of six or seven different kinds of food in order to feed all nine mouths of her large family. Even with Bill and Charlie absent — though both would be arriving later in the day for a week-long visit — that still left four growing boys, a growing girl who often ate nearly as much as her elder brothers, and their father, whose appetite was also nothing to sneeze at.

"Ginny, dear, could you keep an eye on these eggs for me?" her mother asked after dumping the bowl of raw scrambled eggs in yet another frying pan, where they started to sizzle.

Ginny sighed — she _hated_ cooking and had quickly discovered that she was rubbish at it — but did as she was asked, standing up and moving over to the stove while Molly started slicing up bread to make toast. Her brothers slowly trickled in, taking their seats at the table as they watched the two Weasley women cook. Ginny noticed with some annoyance that her mother didn't ask any of her brothers for assistance, but said nothing and didn't allow it to show on her face.

Meals were raucous affairs in the Burrow. With seven people at the table, there could be two or three conversations going at once. Ron had somehow gotten into an argument with Percy, who seemed to think Ron had stolen his Prefect badge. Molly and Arthur had gotten into yet another one of their infamous arguments about Arthur's questionably-legal hobby of enchanting and experimenting with Muggle devices. Fred and George were whispering and gesticulating wildly, punctuated with laughter and furtive looks at Percy.

With so much noise and movement as her family devoured the meal, nobody really noticed that Ginny was silent. Normally she was just as loud as the rest of them — though not when Harry Potter had visited the previous summer — but today she couldn't think of anything to say.

What _could_ she say? It was hard enough pretending everything was alright without having to actually try to hold a normal conversation. After what she had experienced, talking about the twins' pranks or her father's hobbies seemed...pointless. Listening to the twins talk about their pranks or to Percy preen and show off only reminded her that she was different now. None of her family's inane conversations mattered any more. How could she laugh at Fred and George's jokes when all she could think of was Tom's shadowy fingers reaching into her mind? How could she act like the little girl she had been when she knew she was no longer a child?

A wave of nausea passed through her, and she suddenly knew she had eaten all she could stomach. She pushed her plate back and quietly murmured, "I'm full. Can I be excused?"

Her mother looked down at Ginny's half-empty plate and opened her mouth to tell her off for not eating her fill, but she couldn't get the words out. Instead, she just nodded, and Ginny fled upstairs.

_I'm sick of this._

Fed up with her situation, Ginny sat at the small desk in her bedroom and pulled out a sheet of parchment, wondering exactly how she would word this letter. Dumbledore had promised to personally teach her Occlumency during the next school year, but she wanted, _needed_ more than that. She already felt terrible after just a week of sleepless nights; another two months of nightmares did not appeal to her in the slightest. She eventually just put quill to parchment and hoped it would come out alright.

_Professor Dumbledore,_

_I was wondering if you could possibly start teaching me Occlumency sooner than September. You could come to the Burrow and teach me here, or I could floo to Hogwarts or something. I don't think that wall you made will hold up until the end of the summer. I've been having nightmares about what happened when Tom possessed me. I would wait until the start of term like you said, but I just_ **_can't_** _spend the rest of the summer like this._

_Sincerely,_  
_Ginny Weasley_

She looked over her letter carefully. She was asking him for a favor after all, likely a very inconvenient one, and being polite would go a long way towards convincing him to take some time out of his summer to teach her. Deciding that it was up to her mother's standard of politeness and, therefore, probably exceeding Dumbledore's own, she sealed it in an envelope and went off to look for Errol, hoping he was up for the journey to Hogwarts.

She found the owl in his cage in the living room. He was sleeping, as usual. She sat in front of the cage and poked it, jostling it slightly to wake him up. When he finally opened his eyes and hooted feebly in reproach, Ginny quickly opened the cage and tied the letter to his leg.

"I'm sorry, Errol, but I really need to send this right now," she murmured, gently stroking the owl's head. "Take it to Dumbledore, okay? He should be at Hogwarts somewhere."

The owl took off out the open window, narrowly avoiding a tree planted just outside. She sighed and hoped again that the elderly owl would manage to deliver her letter safely.

"HELLO?! HELLO?! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!"

Ron's shout surprised her so much that she tipped her chair over and fell noisily to the floor. She quickly stood up, rubbing her elbow, which had slammed into the floor as she fell, and peered quizzically through the doorway into the kitchen. There she saw Ron holding a telephone handset that their dad had modified to work on magic instead of electricity.

Ginny raised an eyebrow as she remembered something he had said upon testing it out for the very first time.

_"It's amazing! It's as if he were speaking right into my ear!"_

She cringed, imagining that the person on the other end of the phone did not appreciate being yelled at.

"I — WANT — TO — TALK — TO — HARRY — POTTER!!!" Ron shouted at the top of his lungs. Ginny plugged her ears.

"WHO IS THIS?!" a voice bellowed from the phone. "WHO ARE YOU?!"

Ginny cringed. The man's voice was _loud_ , and if that was Harry's irritable uncle on the other end...

"RON — WEASLEY!!!" he hollered. Apparently being shouted at by Mr. Dursley had convinced him he was doing the right thing, as his voice hadn't lowered in the slightest. "I'M — A — FRIEND — OF — HARRY'S — FROM — SCHOOL!!!"

_Oh no,_ Ginny thought. She knew the Dursleys hated anything to do with Hogwarts or magic. Harry was going to get in trouble for this. She took a step towards Ron, intending to shut him up and invent some kind of apology to placate the man, but didn't make it in time to stop Mr. Dursley's reply.

"THERE IS NO HARRY POTTER HERE!!!" Harry's uncle roared, causing Ron to drop the phone in shock. He stared at it in confusion as the man continued, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT SCHOOL YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!!! NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN!!! DON'T —"

Ron hurriedly picked up the handset and hung it up, silencing it. As he turned to leave the room, Ginny suddenly felt a pang of terror as the back of her neck itched terribly. She scratched the itch absently, wondering why she felt so afraid.

The wound on her neck had healed over the first week of summer break, but it had left behind a scar. After lifting up her hair to look at it in the mirror, Ginny had realized that it was shaped like a lightning bolt, just like Harry's.

With a confused grumble, she pushed that thought away and headed outside, hoping to find some peace of mind.

* * *

Bill smiled as he appeared with a muted _crack!_ in front of his childhood home. The tall, rickety building looked the same as ever, a ridiculous combination of roofs and extensions that had turned a tiny, stone shed into a building that could house nine Weasleys.

His mother appeared at the back door, smiled, and reached out to pull him into one of her famous bear hugs.

"Welcome home, Bill," she greeted him. Then she lightly smacked his arm. "You're late."

"Sorry, Mum." He shrugged. "Got caught up in some last-minute business that went longer than planned."

"Well, at least you're here," she said, stepping back. Then she looked up at his face and frowned. "Your hair's getting rather shaggy, dear. Would you like me to give it a trim?"

Bill ran a hand through his hair and opened his mouth to say yes, but paused for a moment and instead said, "Not just now. I kept planning to get it cut while in Egypt, but now I think I might grow it out a bit more and see how it looks."

She didn't look as if she approved of his decision, but she didn't voice her misgivings, either.

"Well, let's get you settled in, then," she said, flicking her wand at the bag he carried over one shoulder and levitating it into the house. Bill followed her in, noticing how empty the first floor seemed.

"Where is everybody?"

"It _is_ rather quiet right now, isn't it?" she answered, as if she'd just noticed how calm the Burrow was right now. "Well, your father's at work, of course. Charlie just flooed to say he won't be coming until tomorrow, something about a new acquisition's bad behavior." She looked slightly apprehensive as she said that, and Bill could sympathize. While the wards and spells he dealt with as a Gringotts Curse-Breaker working in Egyptian tombs could sometimes be dangerous, at least it wasn't as bad as handling _dragons_ like his brother.

"Percy is already studying for his NEWTs," she continued, looking both proud and a little exasperated. "He's been holed up in his bedroom all day. I have no idea what Fred and George are up to, but they haven't gone and blown up anything so I suppose I'm happier not knowing. Ron's writing a letter to Hermione, and Ginny's gone outside somewhere."

Bill turned around and headed back through the kitchen door. "Well, I'm off to say hi to little sis, then," he announced.

"Wait."

His mother's command stopped him in his tracks. Nobody, not even the _twins_ , could disobey her when she used that voice. He looked back to see her wringing her hands nervously. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, frowning.

Finally she said, "Ginny's had a... difficult first year at Hogwarts." Bill raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as she continued, "She seems to be taking it rather well, considering, but I worry all the same. Could you... talk to her, for me?" Now she looked up at him and smiled. "I may be her mother, but I know she trusts you more than anyone else."

Bill frowned. "What..." he trailed off, afraid to ask, but he needed to know the truth. "What happened?"

His mother headed back inside, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "Sit," she told him. "It's a long story."

* * *

"Hey, Gin."

Startled by the sudden voice, Ginny looked down from her perch in the branches of the tallest tree in the Burrow's orchard. On the ground near its roots stood her eldest — and, frankly, her favorite — brother. Ginny often vanished into the orchard when she was sad or angry, or when she just wanted to be alone. Bill was the only one who could ever find her when she did.

"Bill! You're home!" she exclaimed, painting a smile across her face. She clambered down the tree until she was a mere eight feet off the ground, then leaped into her brother's arms. The force of her impact knocked him on his back, and she landed on his stomach.

"Oof! Blimey, Ginny, but _you've_ grown," Bill muttered as she stood up and he followed suit. He put his hand on her head and ruffled her hair a bit. "You were a head shorter the last time I saw you."

Ginny grinned impishly at him, but said nothing.

"So, what are you doing out here, anyway?" Bill asked casually. "I'd ask if the twins pulled a prank on you again, but you give as good as you get these days..."

"Nothing's wrong. I just wanted some time away from everything," Ginny lied with a straight face. When, she wondered, had she become able to fool even her most perceptive brother?

Tom had always been a good liar.

The thought made her want to shudder, but again she kept her tension hidden and instead smiled at Bill.

"Come on, let's go see what Mum's cooking up for dinner!"

Bill watched silently as she spun and headed towards the house. Walking behind her, he frowned. He used to get along really well with Ginny, playing with her and keeping an eye on her as they grew up. He would never admit it to anyone, but she was his favorite sibling of the lot. He was certain Ginny knew, because she often came to him first when she wanted help or advice. She had never been able to lie to him, and he'd thought that she never would.

Now, she had changed. She wasn't his little kid sister any more. He could see the sadness in her eyes that refused to meet his own. He could hear the quaver in her voice when she claimed she was fine.

He wanted to ruffle her hair and tell her everything would be alright. He wanted to see a real smile light up her face again. He wanted to take her in his arms and keep her safe and secluded from all the horrors of the world. After all, wasn't it his job as an older brother to protect his youngest sibling?

If that was the case, he knew that all six Weasley brothers had failed in their duty.

Ginny could almost hear Bill's mind churning behind her. She should have known he wouldn't be so easily fooled, but there really wasn't anything she could do about it other than continue to deflect his questions with lies and false cheer. She wanted more than anything to tell him all about it, to have him comfort her as only a big brother can, but she couldn't bring herself to actually say anything aloud. She couldn't trust him. She wasn't sure she could trust anybody ever again.

Tom had done much more than simply possess her and use her to open the Chamber of Secrets. He'd done much more than force her to harm her friends and fellow students. She had come to trust him completely, more than she had ever trusted anybody before. He had been the perfect listener, allowing her to tell him all her secrets without judgment or interruption. And so she had done exactly that, spilling all of her deepest, darkest secrets — though they certainly seemed a lot less deep and dark these days — and shared details about her life, her thoughts, and her dreams that not even her family knew. She had told him about her crush on Harry, about her fear of not living up to her family's expectations, about the intense surge of homesickness that had hit her a few weeks into term, _everything_. She had bared her soul for him, and he had taken it.

And then he had shown her his. He had shown her his own deepest and darkest secrets. He had made her watch as he terrorized the other children at his orphanage. He had shown her the death of Myrtle Warren, the first person he'd ever murdered. He had gone on to hunt down and kill his Muggle father and grandparents, and had shown her those murders too. He had given her a look into his head and allowed her to truly see all the darkness that resided there.

And then he'd poured the very same darkness into her, and stole away her light.

Ginny clenched her fists so hard that they started to draw blood as she walked across the threshold of the Burrow and into the kitchen. The pain in her hands helped her focus on the here and now instead of wallowing in the past. For now, she at least had to keep up appearances —

"WE WON!!!" a voice shouted, startling her.

Ginny looked up from the floor at her father's jubilant exclamation. She spotted him over by the window, reading a letter as the owl that had delivered it nipped at the remnants of lunch.

"We won the grand prize! Seven hundred galleons!"

_Oh, that,_ Ginny realized. She had completely forgotten that her father had entered the Daily Prophet's contest. She tried for a convincing smile and felt that she might have marginally succeeded as she turned to look at Bill and met his eyes —

_— wish I could kill the bastard who did this to her —_

She broke eye contact, turning to run upstairs to her room as the dam in her mind sprung a leak, and Tom's grinning face loomed over her and touched her cheeks with ice-cold hands that were so horribly, gloriously _real_ as he kissed her on the lips and stole her breath away and her body was so _cold_ and why was he getting warmer and the world around her faded away or maybe _she_ was the one who was fading as the line between her and Tom blurred even more —

Pain exploded in her hand and the real world abruptly snapped back into focus. Gasping for breath, she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and looked down at her throbbing hand. Her knuckles were split open and dripping blood. When she looked up again, she saw a crack in her wooden door and a small smear of blood left behind after she'd slammed her fist into it.

"Ginny! Are you alright?!" Bill's voice shouted on the other side of her door. Wincing as her knuckles burned, she opened her mouth to speak, but he'd already opened the door. He took one look at her bloody knuckles and sighed, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him to examine it.

"You really did a number on it," he said quietly as he pulled out his wand and gave it a flick. The crack in her door resealed itself. Another flick caused the bloody fist print to vanish. Then he turned towards her and held out his free hand. "Let me see."

"I'm fine," she muttered quietly.

"Then you'll have no problem showing me your hand," Bill needled her. Ginny sighed, but did as asked, laying her injured hand on his. Another wave of his wand and a muttered incantation she didn't catch, and her knuckles were clean and fully healed. Then he lifted her chin gently. She rested her gaze on his left ear, carefully avoiding his eyes.

"Ginny, if there's anything I can do to help..."

"You've done enough," she replied, waving her healed hand for emphasis. "Thanks."

He opened his mouth to say something else, but seemed to think better of it as he sighed and stepped out of the room. He gave her one last look as he reached out for the door handle, but Ginny did everything she could to avoid looking into his eyes until he gave up and closed the door.

What had happened? How had she seen what Bill was thinking?

She did not sleep well that night, dreaming of icy hands and breathtaking kisses.

* * *

It took Ginny a full month to figure out what had happened between her and Bill that evening, mostly because she'd refused to try meeting anybody's eyes again, afraid her own bad memories might overwhelm her again.

Bill had returned to Egypt a week later, and the Weasley family spent the next several weeks packing and preparing for travel. Molly and Arthur had decided to put a bit of the money he'd won away in Gringotts, to be spent later on a new wand for Ron — who'd broken his old one the previous year — while they used the rest to pay for a trip to Egypt to visit Bill for two weeks.

Soon after their arrival in Cairo, however, she'd been unable to avoid briefly meeting a stranger's gaze. He was a young man with a beautiful wife, though he was cheating on her with another woman. After that brief thought, Tom's memories surfaced, and she'd nearly vomited as she remembered the first time he'd been with a woman. The girl had been a student one year ahead of him, though she hadn't survived to graduation. Tom had made sure of that.

On a few occasions after that, she'd been unable to avoid looking into others' eyes, and had slowly formed an idea of what caused her to see what she did.

It was the darkness in her, the piece of Tom Riddle left inside her, reaching out and recognizing the darkness in others. In Bill, the darkness had taken on the form of a fierce desire to kill the one who had harmed his little sister. And once the darkness in her recognized itself in others, it rose to the forefront of her mind. She couldn't seem to control it, but it was still easy enough to fix.

She just had to never make eye contact again.

"Ginny?"

She looked up at her brother Bill, resting her gaze on the tip of his nose. "What?" she asked, realizing that he'd been talking to her as they walked the streets of Giza. "Sorry, I didn't mean to ignore you. I just... have a lot on my mind."

"That's alright," he said with a quick grin, though it looked every bit as forced as her own smile. "I was just asking if you were sure about going to the tombs with us today. Some of them can be a mite... disgusting, inside. Sometimes terrifying. There was one with a curse on it to turn tomb robbers inside out. Nasty, that."

Ginny looked ahead at the rest of her family, realizing she and Bill had fallen far enough behind to be out of earshot, then said with a shrug, "I've seen worse."

"I suppose so," Bill murmured, a pained expression briefly showing on his face before he nodded at her and gestured at the rest of the Weasleys up ahead. "C'mon, let's catch up to the rest."

It took a while to reach the site where Bill was working, but eventually they were walking around the perimeter of a gigantic pyramid.

"This is one of the Pyramids of Giza," Bill explained, gesturing to not only the pyramid they stood beneath but also two other large pyramids not far away. "Part of it is open to Muggles, but there is another secret entrance that was protected by powerful wards and curses. We've broken most of them, but left an illusion charm intact to prevent anybody from finding it before it's safe to go inside. We also added a Muggle-repelling charm, just in case."

He led them around the corner of the pyramid, then reached out with a hand to pass it through one of the massive stone bricks as he continued his explanation.

"All of us cursebreakers have to memorize its location, because we can't mark or deface it just in case a Muggle gets curious enough to break through the repelling charm and find it."

Ginny let his words wash over her without really paying attention to what he was saying, and followed absently as they all walked through the bricks as they would through the barrier at King's Cross. Bill then led them down a long, sloping hallway lit by torches that burned blue until they emerged in a large chamber. Ginny stopped dead and stared, awestruck.

The underground chamber was strewn with treasures of all kinds. There were gemstones the size of her fist, all sorts of precious metals, jewelry, weapons, and more. In the very center was a large, stone sarcophagus, covered in hieroglyphs and other carvings.

"You don't have to worry about any leftover curses, for the most part," Bill was saying as everyone looked around the room with wide eyes. "This chamber was completely cleared last week. However, we're not supposed to take anything. Feel free to look around, but don't touch anything, alright? We've left a powerful and nasty anti-thievery curse intact for now, until we finish cataloguing all of the artifacts in here.

Ginny hid a tiny, but genuine smile when she saw Fred and George had frozen while reaching for a large amulet holding what looked like a diamond at its center. Slowly, they backed away and stuffed their hands in their pockets.

While the rest of the Weasleys were occupied with looking around at the many artifacts and carvings around the room, Bill sidled up next to his sister.

"There were some really interesting curses on this room and the treasure inside it," Bill murmured quietly in her ear. He handed her a small notebook with a brown leather cover. "I took notes on them and thought you might want to take a look. There's some stuff from other tombs in here too. A lot of the spells in there are probably too tough for you to cast yet, but there's a few you could probably try at Hogwarts next semester." At Ginny's shocked look, he continued, "They're mostly harmless, more annoying than deadly, but a few of them might be good for self-defense. Just promise you won't tell anybody else about it, alright? Mum will pitch a fit if she finds out."

Looking down at the book in her hand, Ginny bit her lip. Somehow she knew she should feel something like fear at the sight of a journal so similar to the Diary. Other than the color of its cover, it was almost completely identical at first glance. Instead, she couldn't stop a smile from stealing across her face as she looked up at her brother, recognizing the gift for what it was. If any of her other siblings — or, Merlin forbid, her mother — knew how badly the events of the past year had affected her, they would have smothered her in their attempts to protect her. Bill knew her better than that. Instead, he had given her a tool she could use to protect herself.

"I promise," she said as she opened it and began to skim through the spells detailed within.

* * *

" _Please?_ "

Molly Weasley shook her head. " _No_ , Ginny" she said, causing the small redhead's face to fall. "You will _not_ be going with them!"

"But I want to see the skele —"

"No. You are far too young to see something like that!" her mum interrupted her.

"But Ron's only a year —"

"No means _no_ , young lady! I will not hear another word of it!"

Ginny grimaced as she trudged up to her hotel room. By virtue of being the only female sibling, she'd gotten a small room to herself, while her brothers had to share two more rooms. She collapsed on her bed and turned to look out the window into the bright, sunny sky.

While she and her mother were staying in town, the rest of the family was going to see a tomb. Bill had unfortunately let slip that this one had several skeletons of robbers who had been mutated by the curses protecting the tomb, cursed with extra limbs or heads. Molly Weasley had overheard, and decided that she didn't want to see such a gruesome sight. Ginny had been forced to stay behind as well.

A blank sheet of parchment and a parcel wrapped in brown paper were sitting on the desk beneath the open window, along with a fresh quill and ink bottle. Ginny had bought a present for Harry's birthday while her family was shopping for travel necessities in Diagon Alley, but she hadn't gotten the opportunity to send it before they left on their trip. Knowing she wouldn't be returning to England until several weeks after Harry's birthday, she'd brought the present with her.

The parcel and blank parchment had been taunting her constantly since then. She knew she ought to write a letter to accompany it, but what could she possibly say? She barely knew anything about Harry, to be honest, other than what Ron had said during the past two summers.

So what should she say? 'Thanks for saving my life, here's a birthday present'?

Rolling her eyes, she stood up and walked over to the desk, then picked up the quill and dipped it in the ink bottle. She wasn't sure what to write yet, but she knew today was her last chance to send it if she wanted it to reach him on his birthday.

So she put quill to parchment and began to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, the response to chapter 1 was amazing! Thank you for all of your favorites and follows, and thank you so much for your reviews! It was honestly a lot more than I was expecting, and I'm glad everyone seemed to like it so far.
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is mostly transitional. A bit of plot advancement, a bit of setup for future events, and a whole lot of Ginny's turbulent emotions and the ongoing effects of what Tom did to her. I really wanted to make it clear that she's not okay. She's not over what happened. This is meant to be more than just a soul bond fic, after all. Ginny has her own issues to confront.
> 
> We'll start to get into the meat of the story in the next few chapters.


	3. Birthdays

When Albus Dumbledore received Ginny's letter in his office, delivered by a ragged owl that looked ready to pass out, he would have chuckled at its overly polite tone if its content weren't so worrying. While the letter was worded in a very casual sort of way, the ink blots and sharp strokes of the letters gave him better insight into her mental state while she'd been writing. It was easy to see she was worried.

And rightly so.

Albus had no idea what effects Tom Riddle's memories might have on her mental state. She was already having nightmares, which he'd suspected might happen, though the wall he'd put up in her mind should have been strong enough to keep her from recalling anything once she woke. If the wall was already weak enough to let thoughts and memories slip through...

He couldn't wait for September to start teaching her Occlumency. He had to start now.

His decision made, Dumbledore stood up and grabbed a pinch of Floo powder from the pouch on his office's hearth. Before he could toss it into the fire, a face appeared in the flames.

"Dumbledore!"

"Minister Fudge," he greeted the Minister of Magic kindly. "You know I always welcome your visits, but this is a rather bad time."

"Whatever it is, it can wait," Fudge told him. "Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban!"

Dumbledore looked back at the letter on his desk with a frown.

* * *

_Tap. Tap-tap-tap._

Harry Potter blinked sleepily and looked around. Why couldn't he see anything? It couldn't possibly still be dark outside, could it?

_Tap-tap-tap._

With a quiet groan, he sat up and blinked slowly, struggling to keep his eyes open. He reached blindly towards his nightstand to hunt down his glasses, then put them on his face.

_Tap-tap-tap._

Grumbling something unintelligible under his breath, he looked at the clock hanging on his wall. It was a beat-up old thing, as were most of the items in this room that were left over from its prior use as Dudley's storage space, but it still worked well enough to tell him it was _far_ too early to be awake.

The tapping sound continued, drawing his gaze to his window. An owl he didn't recognize was sitting on the windowsill, pecking at the glass. He hurriedly got out of bed and opened the window, watching bemusedly as the owl hopped into the room and dropped a heavy package and an envelope on his desk. It took a quick sip from Hedwig's water dish, then flew out the window and disappeared into the night without a backwards glance.

Harry glanced at Hedwig, still asleep in her cage despite the brief commotion. The flight from wherever Hermione was spending her vacation (somewhere in France, he thought) had taken a lot out of her. The Weasley family's old owl, Errol, was in there too, resting up for the long journey back to Egypt, where the Weasleys were currently vacationing.

He smiled at the thought of his friends, and looked over at the small pile of birthday presents he'd received only a few hours ago. Ron's gift was a Pocket Sneakoscope, which could detect any untrustworthy people nearby. It looked like a miniature glass top, and was currently balanced perfectly on its point on his bedside table. Hermione's gift was, surprisingly, not a book. Instead, she had given him a servicing kit for his broomstick. Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts and the first wizard he'd ever met, had given him a rather odd gift. It was a large tome, titled _The Monster Book of Monsters_.

The book was also — quite literally — a monster. It had tried to devour his hand, and he'd been forced to wrap one of his belts around it to keep it closed. Hagrid had hinted in his letter that it might be useful, but Harry couldn't imagine why. He couldn't even open the book, let alone actually read anything in it.

Thinking of his presents reminded him that he'd apparently received a new one, and he looked back at the letter and package sitting on his desk. The package seemed like it might be a book — had Hermione gotten him another gift? Curious, he reached out to open it, but changed his mind and picked up the envelope instead. On its front was his own name, written in an oddly familiar script. He spent a moment trying to figure out where he knew that handwriting from, but when no obvious answers came to mind, he gave up and tore open the envelope to pull out the parchment within.

_Dear Harry,_

_I spent a long time wondering what to write in this letter. I'm still not sure where to begin, to be honest. I've never really talked to you before, unless you count my sobbing and stuttering in the Chamber of Secrets as actual talking._

Harry paused, frowning. Was this from Ginny Weasley? Why was she sending him anything? He barely knew her, and had never really spoken to her at length. Curious, he kept reading.

_I guess you don't really know me all that well. To you I'm just "Ron's little sister" if you even think of me at all, but even though I'm nearly a stranger to you, you still risked everything to save me. I know I was very out of sorts at the time, but I still noticed things. I saw the Basilisk fang on the floor, and the tear in your robes, and that phoenix's eyes were still damp with tears._

_You almost died, didn't you? Because of me._

_Dumbledore tells me it wasn't my fault. I'm not sure if I believe him, though. It sure feels like my fault. You should probably hate me for what I've done, for almost getting you killed, for petrifying one of your best friends, for letting everyone else blame you and call you the "Heir of Slytherin" and all that rot. But you saved me. You could have hated me, but instead you told me everything was alright. And I never thanked you for it. So, thank you. Thank you for saving my life and for not blaming me. I know you'll probably play it down and say it was nothing, but no matter what you think of it, it meant the world to me. I owe you my life._

_Anyway, Happy Birthday! After all you went through to save me, the least I could do is give you a birthday gift. So, here you go. I hope you like it._

_Ginny Weasley_

Harry's eyes slowly widened as he read through the letter. He was surprised to see that Ginny actually had a lot to say in her letter, when she was normally so quiet and subdued around him. Hopefully he'd have the opportunity to befriend her upon his return to Hogwarts in September. During the past two years, he'd discovered just how wonderful it was to have friends, and he could always use more.

He picked up the package next and began to unwrap it. Before he even saw what was inside, he already knew it was a book, and wondered if perhaps Ginny's and Hermione's gifts had been switched somehow. He quickly tore off the rest of the paper and saw the title:

_Seeking Victory: 1001 Extreme Seeker Moves_

"Wicked," he whispered as he looked at the moving picture on the cover, which showed a Seeker flying upside-down with his head barely inches above the grass, his hand reaching for a Snitch that was just beyond his grasp. Harry opened it up to a random page that described a move called the Neilson Reversal and began to read eagerly.

* * *

She was sitting on her bed in Gryffindor Tower, staring down at the small book on her lap. Her mind was at war with itself. She knew she shouldn't open it. She knew she should destroy it, burn it, tear it to shreds so that it could never ensnare someone else as it had done to her.

But she knew she could not. She was in too deep. She could sense it, could feel the darkness inside her mind. And the darkness was telling her to **_open it_**.

Unable to resist, she did as she was bid.

**_Hello, Ginny,_** it greeted her, its words swimming into existence on the blank page. **_It's been a while._**

Ginny picked up her quill and wrote back, _I know what you are. I know what you've done._

**_And yet you've told nobody._ **

_I'll find a way._

**_No, you won't. You can't win, Ginevra._ **

The ink left the page and reached out towards her, as it had so many times before. Shadowy tendrils sank into her mind. She didn't resist. In fact, she welcomed it, because she knew Tom had told her the truth.

She had already lost.

The darkness compelled her to stand, and she obeyed. She knelt and pulled a can of paint from beneath her bed. She remembered it now, as she remembered everything she'd done while under Tom's control. She would always forget afterwards, after it was over.

This time, however, she knew it would never be over. Tom had finally won.

She picked up the can and left the dorm. Everyone else was in class, so the halls were empty and silent. She disillusioned herself anyway, just in case, and headed towards the Chamber. Stopping outside the bathroom, she looked up at the message she'd written on the wall, months ago.

**_THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED._ **

**_ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE._ **

She put down the bucket and dipped her fingers into the crimson paint it held, then smeared a new message on the wall below the old one:

**_HER SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER._ **

She entered the bathroom, leaving the can behind. She had left her final message. The ghost was hiding, though it no longer mattered if anybody saw her.

_Open,_ she hissed at the sink. It obeyed her.

Then she entered the Chamber for the final time.

* * *

Miles away and months later, Ginny sat up with a gasp. Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to get her frantic breathing under control.

**_HER SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER._ **

The crimson words seemed to float in the air before her as she threw herself out of bed and raced to her window. She opened it and stuck her head out into the dry night air, gasping for breath.

She remembered. She remembered reaching out with paint-coated fingers towards the wall outside the bathroom. She remembered writing her own death sentence. She remembered opening the Chamber and sliding down into the darkness.

She remembered what Tom had done to her then.

_...ice-cold hands that were so horribly, gloriously real as he kissed her on the lips and stole her breath away..._

Bile rose in her throat. She pulled head back inside and quickly crossed the room to enter the small attached bathroom. She reached the toilet just in time, and collapsed to her knees as she vomited into it.

A few minutes later, after emptying her stomach and rinsing her mouth out to rid herself of the acidic aftertaste, she looked up into the mirror.

Weeks spent in Egypt under the hot summer Sun had tanned her face and sent freckles racing across her skin and down her neck. You wouldn't know it from looking at her now, though, as her skin was even paler than she usually was, so pale that her many freckles stood out in stark relief. There were dark rings under her eyes.

She turned away from the reflection, unable to bear yet another reminder of how much she had changed, and walked back out into the room just in time to see an owl fly right through her open window and drop a heavy burden atop her dresser. She barely had a moment to blink in sleepy confusion before it took off again and flew off into the darkness. Curious, she went over to her dresser and looked at the package it had dropped. It was book-shaped, and had her name written across the top. Beneath it, she could see the corner of an envelope. She took it out and opened it to read the letter inside.

_Miss Weasley,_

_I apologize for your difficulties this summer. If I'd known that you would have such terrible nightmares so soon, I would have made arrangements to teach you. Alas, something incredibly important has come up that I cannot possibly ignore. I cannot teach you this summer._

Anger filled her for a moment, but it quickly turned to despair. If she couldn't learn Occlumency soon...

_However, with this letter I also sent you a book on the subject. Please do read it, and practice the exercises detailed within. Just because I cannot teach you myself does not mean I cannot give you the tools you need to learn on your own. If your nightmares become noticeably better or worse after you begin practicing, owl me immediately. When you arrive at Hogwarts in September, I will meet with you in person to determine your progress and schedule additional lessons on the subject if necessary._

_Please do know that this is not a quick fix. You will not solve your nightmare problem so easily. This is complicated magic, so do not be discouraged if you do not appear to be making any progress at first. You are a very intelligent young witch, and I know you are capable of learning this art._

_Best wishes,_  
_Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore_

She ripped open the package and almost smiled when she saw she'd been right about its contents. It was a book, with the single word, _Occlumency_ emblazoned across its cover. Completely forgetting about the very early hour, she quickly lit a candle and settled down on her bed to begin reading, hoping she could get rid of her nightmares soon even despite Dumbledore's warning.

* * *

Several hours later, when the Sun was just beginning to rise outside, Ginny was still reading. She had made it through nearly a quarter of the book already, though she was so tired now that she couldn't open her eyes all the way. She yawned widely as she turned a page and continued reading.

After a lengthy introduction and an even more lengthy section that detailed the history and supposed origin of Occlumency — though the art was so old that its actual origin wasn't certain — she'd finally gotten into the meat of the text. She had discovered from her reading that there were actually two different kinds of Occlumency. The first kind involved simply clearing the mind to protect it from anyone skilled in Legilimency, the art of reading minds. It was much more difficult than it sounded, as it involved keeping calm in the face of a devastating mental assault. The second type of Occlumency, the type that Ginny was hopefully going to learn, was easier to grasp at first, though much more difficult and time-consuming to master. It involved creating a "mindscape," as the book called it, an inner world within your own mind, where your thoughts and memories could be visualized. Then you could organize your memories to make them easier to recall, or lock them away so you wouldn't have to see them unless you wanted to.

It sounded incredibly complicated, but the book assured her that it was simpler than it seemed. Ginny wasn't so sure about that, but she decided to at least make an attempt. With a sigh, she pushed the book away from herself and closed her eyes, attempting to focus inward as the book had described.

Her arm was itchy.

She absently scratched her arm until the itch went away, then tried again.

A muscle in her shoulder twitched.

After a quick stretch and a bit of movement to work out that annoying muscle spasm, she settled down again.

"GINNY! WAKE UP! WE'RE LEAVING SOON!"

Ginny groaned and let herself fall backwards onto the bed. Meditation was _hard_.

She soon sat up again and reached out to snap her new book shut. She had totally forgotten this would be their last day in Egypt. They were returning to the Burrow as soon as everyone was awake and packed.

She glanced around the room and groaned. Somehow, during her stay, her clothes, books, and other possessions had ended up strewn all over the room. She stood up and started cleaning up the mess as fast as she could, tossing everything she could find back into her trunk. Hopefully it would all fit without being packed neatly.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley! Hurry up! We'll be late!"

Ginny ground her teeth in frustration as she shoved the last of her clothes in her trunk. She attempted to close it, but it stubbornly refused to latch all the way shut. Muttering curses under her breath that would have earned her an hour-long lecture if her mother had heard them, she took a few steps back, then ran towards her trunk and leaped onto it, landing with just enough force to shut it completely. After hearing the latch click, she stepped off the trunk and dragged it out of her room and down the stairs. Her parents and the rest of her family were all waiting by the inn's fireplace. A large, warm fire was flickering merrily in the hearth despite the heat outside.

"Late for what?" Ron asked their mother as Ginny dragged her trunk over to the rest of the family's luggage. "Aren't we just going back home?"

"Your father has to go back to the Ministry in the afternoon," their mother answered him. "Now, do hurry up!"

"Well, it was nice to see you all, but I have to get back to work," Bill said as he hugged each Weasley in succession. When he got to Ginny, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Take a look at page fourteen of that notebook I gave you. I think you'll like it."

When she nodded, he grinned and winked at her as he Disapparated. Charlie went next. Since he was traveling all the way to Romania, he used the Floo instead of just Apparating. So he tossed in some powder, watched as the fire turned emerald green, and stepped in with his trunk.

"Romanian Dragon Preserve!" he shouted. The flames rose and he vanished from sight.

Molly looked expectantly at one of the twins. "You go next, Fred," she told him.

"I'm _George_ , Mum!" the twin in question exclaimed. He gestured at his identical twin and said, " _He's_ Fred."

"Sorry, George," Molly muttered absently, used to the twins' usual antics. "One of you just hurry up and go."

He grinned as he stepped into the bright green flames. "The Burrow!" he shouted, and vanished.

"Go on, Fred," Molly sighed.

"Fred?" he echoed. "Dunno what he was talking about. _I'm_ George! The Burrow!"

He vanished in a roar of flame, drowning out his mother's angry shout. Ginny hid a grin as Molly rounded on Percy, who simply rolled his eyes as he stepped into the fire. Ron went after him, and then it was finally Ginny's turn.

"Now don't forget, dear," her mother said. "You must speak _clearly_."

"I've used Floo powder before, Mum," Ginny grumbled under her breath as she stepped into the flames.

* * *

Ginny tumbled head over heels as she exited The Burrow's fireplace. She tucked her head in and curled up, somehow turning her fall into a somersault to land back on her feet. She stood up, grinned at the wide-eyed twins, took a step, and stumbled on a loose floorboard. This time, she had no chance to recover before she hit the floor face-first.

"Nice," the twins said in unison, smirking at her.

Ginny stuck out her tongue, but before she could say anything back to them, their parents stumbled out of the fireplace. Ginny took advantage of the twins' distraction to slip away up to her bedroom. With a loud sigh, she laid down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling for a while. Her thoughts drifted.

Her fists clenched as rage welled up inside her, her fingernails biting deep enough into her palms to draw blood. _Grasp your broom firmly by the tail,_ a voice in her mind recited as the back of her neck itched, then ached, though she had no idea where the thought had come from. The rage grew worse, and she picked up her pillow and threw it as hard as she could across the room to try to vent some of her anger, but it didn't help. She then tried taking a deep breath and telling herself to calm down, but her fury refused to go away.

_They didn't die in a —_

Flashes of thoughts that weren't her own drifted across her mind, but fled before she could figure out what exactly they were about. At first, she thought it might be Tom's influence again, but that theory was soon discarded. These thoughts felt... different, somehow.

After a while, though she wasn't sure exactly how long, she managed to calm down. Her face was bright red and she was breathing heavily as she wondered what had just happened.

"These aren't _my_ emotions I'm feeling," she murmured quietly. "I can tell they're not mine. But... I don't think they're Tom's either."

With a sigh, she rummaged through her trunk, looking for something to distract herself from her strange thoughts. She quickly spotted the brown notebook lying sandwiched between two shirts, and pulled it out, flipping absently to the page Bill had suggested. As her eyes caught the title, she couldn't resist a smile. The next time the twins mocked her, they'd surely regret it.

_The Bat-Bogey Hex_

_Causes victim's nasal mucus to leak out of the nose, enlarge, grow wings, and attack the victim's face for a period of time determined by the strength of the spell. This was modified from an enchantment placed on a doorway in a tomb filled with numerous other irritating curses. The enchantment was cast with enough power to be lethal: the victim's bogeys would actually explode from the nose, obliterating the face in the process. A single wizard could not produce enough power for that gruesome effect, so I'd classify this as "extremely irritating, but nonlethal" when cast by any singular wizard._

_Incantation: Alatumuci_

_Wand motion: The ideal motion is unknown, but a standard swish-and-flick seemed to work just fine when I tested it on Alex — he wasn't too pleased with me afterwards, though._

"Alatumuci," she mumbled, carefully sounding out the word. She repeated it several times until she thought she was pronouncing it correctly. With a grin, she marked the page and placed the notebook on her nightstand. Once she went back to Hogwarts, the twins had better watch out!

For now, though, it was a good time to give Occlumency another try. She closed her eyes and attempted to meditate again.

* * *

"Sirius Black!"

Ginny frowned when she heard her father say the name right after arriving home from work the next day. It sounded familiar, somehow.

"What about him?" Molly asked as she bustled about the kitchen, preparing dinner.

"The Ministry's in an uproar," Arthur answered. "Black escaped from Azkaban a couple weeks ago and is now at large."

"But... nobody's ever managed to..."

"I know, Molly. Nobody knows how he escaped. They think they might know why he did it now, though. Rumor has it he's after..." Arthur trailed off and glanced awkwardly towards his youngest daughter.

"Ginny, dear," her mother said, "would you please go outside and let your brothers know it's time for supper? They should be out in the paddock."

Ginny sighed as she stood up and left the kitchen. Instead of continuing towards the makeshift Quidditch pitch out in the orchard, though, she stopped just outside the door and leaned against the wall, pressing her ear to the wood.

"Rumor has it he's after Harry," her dad continued quietly. "The guards claim he was mumbling 'He's at Hogwarts,' over and over just before his escape. You know he was one of You-Know-Who's followers. He probably blames Harry for his downfall thirteen years ago."

Ginny stifled a gasp. Harry was in danger again? Shouldn't someone warn him?

"We had a bit of a scare about Harry an hour ago, to tell you the truth. He ran away from home after accidentally inflating his aunt."

" _What?!_ "

"The Minister himself found the boy and rented him a room at the Leaky Cauldron for the rest of the summer. Don't worry. He'll be fine as long as he doesn't leave Diagon Alley. There are so many other wizards there that Black cannot hope to find Harry without being seen, and the boy is being watched by a squad of plainclothes Aurors. He'll be alright."

The conversation quickly moved on to some of the raids Ginny's dad had conducted during the day. Ginny left her spot by the door and headed towards the paddock to find her brothers, thinking deeply about her father's news.

* * *

The rest of summer passed quietly, or as quietly as it could possibly be when the twins were around.

A few days after returning home, Ginny woke up with a pitiful groan. After staying up late the previous night reading through Bill's notebook, she'd woken up far too early for some reason, and couldn't get back to sleep no matter how much she wanted to. So it was with a befuddled mind and half-closed eyes that she wandered downstairs.

"Could I have some breakfast, Mum?" she asked as she sat heavily down at the table and rested her forehead on its cool surface.

"Sure... um... just one moment."

Her mother sounded perplexed. Feeling rather confused herself, Ginny lifted her head and was even more bewildered to see party decorations strewn throughout the room. There were balloons, streamers, and a big banner that proclaimed _HAPPY BIRTHDAY!_ She looked at the banner for several minutes before it hit her.

"Oh! It's my birthday!" she exclaimed.

"Of course it's your birthday!" one of the twins shouted from behind her. They sat down on either side of her and looked at each other over her head.

"George, I fear something is terribly wrong with her!"

"Fred, I think you might be right!"

"How could she forget her own birthday?"

"We may have to perform some experiments, just to make sure she hasn't forgotten anything else!"

"Nothing invasive, of course —"

"Of course."

"Perhaps some mild probing, Fred?"

"Oh, hey George, we could try out that thing we bought in —"

" _Enough!_ " Molly shouted, immediately silencing the twins. "There will be no talk of experimentation at breakfast!"

Ginny just rolled her eyes and ignored their usual antics. Lately, she had taken to repeating the incantation for the Bat-Bogey Hex in her mind whenever they annoyed her. Soon, very soon, she would get the opportunity to test it out on them — once they were at Hogwarts and out of sight of their mother, of course, since she'd pitch a fit if she saw Ginny hexing her brothers. The possibility of expulsion from Hogwarts paled in comparison to the Weasley matriarch's rage.

Despite its slow and stumbling start, Ginny enjoyed her birthday. After breakfast, the twins and Ron took her outside to go exploring in the forest near their home. After living there all their lives, most of it was already known to them, but they still had fun wandering through the trees and playing hide-and-seek. As they walked past the enclosed paddock where her brothers often played Quidditch, Ginny grinned. Her brothers had no idea, but she'd been breaking into the broom shed to practice on their brooms since she was six, and felt she was rather good now. Her brothers were sure to be shocked when a Chaser position opened up on the team and Ginny tried out, though that wouldn't happen for a few years yet.

When the Sun began to set, they came back inside, coated in dirt and dust from their adventures. Molly took one look at them and sighed as she cast a cleaning charm. After, there was a chorus of Happy Birthday, the lyrics of which were mangled hideously by the twins. Then there was a delicious chocolate cake, followed by gifts. Bill sent her a small ankh pendant he'd been allowed to take from one of the tombs. Charlie sent a nice pair of dragonhide boots for the winter. Percy apparently hadn't known what to get her, as both he and Ron each gave her a box of Chocolate Frogs, while the twins provided her with a few joke products from Zonko's. The gift from her parents, however, was by far her most favorite. When she opened the long, thin package to see a Cleansweep Seven, a newer version of the same model that the twins flew, she squealed in delight and leaped up to hug both of her parents tightly. Her father then told her he'd confiscated it from a Muggle who was using it as an ordinary broom. As it was not technically a Muggle artifact, but a magical device to begin with, he had gotten permission to keep it.

"It's about time you had your own broom," he said when she stammered her thanks to him. "Now you can stop borrowing your brothers' brooms at night."

Ginny stared at him. "You knew?"

Ron and Percy muttered shocked exclamations of their own, though Fred and George looked completely unsurprised. Arthur grinned and ruffled her hair. "I'm your father," he told her, as if that explained everything. "Of course I knew. Now, why don't you go try it out?"

Ginny grinned and picked up her new broom, then ran outside towards the paddock. It was an open area the size of a small Quidditch field, with tall trees planted around it to hide it from the Muggle residents of Ottery St. Catchpole. The moment she stepped out into the clearing, she mounted her broom and took off straight up into the air. It flew _much_ better than the old Shooting Star she usually used whenever she managed to sneak one out of the shed. It flew faster, turned sharper, and stopped quicker than any broom she'd ever flown before. If the twins' Cleansweep Fives were anywhere near as good as her new Cleansweep Seven, she now knew why they'd charmed their brooms to produce a piercing shriek if anybody tried to steal them — a precaution she had discovered after attempting to take one of them out for a ride a couple years back. She didn't plan to ever let her new broom out of her sight!

She flew laps around the pitch, whooping with glee. Her nightmares, her past, her memories of Tom... none of it mattered right now. Flying was the only thing on her mind.

In the air, she was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to cut the scene from the original story where Ginny cast the Bat-Bogey Hex on the twins after her joyride. I think it's better left out, as it didn't really serve the purpose of this chapter and didn't really fit. That'll come some other time, and removing it saves me from a rather awkward and somewhat canon-defying explanation for why Ginny wouldn't get in trouble due to the Trace.
> 
> This chapter, by the way, is the last rewrite chapter. While I technically had the majority of the original chapters 4 and 5 written in advance, they were never posted online, and will probably be changed a lot anyway, so the new stuff starts with the next chapter. The plot will also start to move along a bit faster now.
> 
> Please let me know if you spot any errors in this chapter or anything you think could be better. Especially when it comes to characterization. While positive reviews are wonderful and nice, constructive criticism is great too.


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